“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He scoffs, dismissing Taekwoon’s very valid rebuttal. “But I’m a crazy douche who belongs in an insane asylum. It’s expected. Different story with you.” He snorts. “A miracle how you haven’t murdered me yet.”
Jaebum starts at that. Jealous? Now that was a shocker, somewhat. Jaebum sensed something off with Taekwoon, instinctively knowing and understanding that something had set the man off. After all, Taekwoon getting so much more aggressive and domineering so abruptly wasn’t the norm per say... But Jaebum hadn’t been able to put a finger on exactly what ‘set’ the guy off. Jealously was it? Hmmm... he didn’t know what to feel about that. Jealous about his artistic abilities? His combat prowess? Yeah, he’s used to that. But jealously brought about by romantic and sexual desires? That was a first.
Puzzlement aside, he does find pride in being the manipulative asshole that he is, even if unintentionally. “Why thank you. I always did believe that I had great talent in playing puppeteer.” He grins wryly. Well, he had been trying to push the man’s buttons, as always, but jealously... an emotion he didn’t really know or understand... He hadn’t really meant to go for that. But in any case, if jealously made Taekwoon this much fun to play with, he ought to pursue that emotion more. An equal was only an equal if they knew how to fight back.
“Jealous...?” He breathes heavily, somewhat out of sorts and his head drops back, a loud ‘thunk’ resounding as his skull hit the floor. “You jealous?” He laughs throatily. “Whatever for?”
Bloody hell, he hates this. Where did all that stray confidence come from? As if it weren’t already shocking enough how forth coming the man had been, Taekwoon takes it to the next level. And Jaebum isn’t prepared. He’s used to controlling the flow of things, but apparently, he wasn’t the one doing the controlling this time.
And a burst of rainbow coloured unicorn vomit explodes before his eyelids as he digs his heels into the floorboard (earning himself a friction burn or two), hips involuntarily thrusting up as his breath hitches. His fingers find their way to Taekwoon’s neck, to his hair, one hand gripping the man’s neck almost painfully, the other tangled up in the man’s dark, damp locks. The feeling is strange, foreign, terribly frustrating, yet terribly pleasurable. Frustrating because each tiny movement send electrifying jolts up his spine, causing his hairs to stand on end. It feels weird. It makes his guts keen and curl and flip. He wants it to stop. So he tries to stop moving. To stop the movement. But no. He doesn’t want it to stop. It feels weird, but feels good. So his body moves on it’s own accord.
It’s sort of like tickling. Being tickled is uncomfortable, yet fun. It ‘hurts’, you want it to stop, and yet you laugh. But it’s not tickling. Because tickling does get annoying after awhile. Whatever this is, his body doesn’t want it to stop.
His lips tremble violently, parting, then closing, then parting again. A strangled gurgle leaves him, as though his vocal cords have no idea how to function properly and instead decides to throw out a messy mix of sounds. As Taekwoon bobs his head, he feels his body burning up, a butchered, drawn out moan escapes his lips - as though his brain were fighting against his entire body to stop reacting in the mortifying way he was.
It’s hot. Hot down ‘there’ and hot up here. His ears feel like they’d drop off. Never have they ever felt this much on fire. His neck burns and itches and he wants to scratch it to shreds.
His lips parts once more and another moan just but half leaves his lips before it’s promptly stifled by none other than his lovely arm. The embarrassing sounds won’t stop by will alone so other methods will have to work. So he settles for chomping his jaws around his forearm.
By the time Taekwoon releases him, it feels like an eternity, and yet it felt like only a second. He’s missing his touch already.
In any case, he’s gnawed through enough of his own flesh to draw blood, and wonders how the hell is his cock harder than before. Flushed and mind fogged up with desire, he ‘spits’ out his arm, eyes narrowing (as much as they could while half-lidded) at the man, all the while willing his lower body to not thrust up. He might speak and carry himself with the air of an Master Casanova, but he had as much experience as a 5 year old in such matters. His forte was bluffing, not delivering.
“B-bastard.” He snipes, his tongue numb and front teeth nipping the tip of it as he hissed weakly at the man.
A hand snakes up Taekwoon’s face and fingers tangle themselves in the man’s hair before they violently and abruptly force the man down just millimetres before his face. All Jaebum wants is to bring Taekwoon’s body closer to his, his warmth, his body heat, everything. Every nerve on his body was on fire and each touch was like a jolt of electricity.
“Bastard.” He hisses out more steadily this time. His other hand jerking up to curl itself unforgiving-ly around Taekwoon’s length, squeezing it good and hard. His pinky fingers the man’s slit as he squeezes the man’s cock hard again. He reduces the pressure against the man’s member, pausing for a second, the lightly and slowly drags his hand down the length, then back up. Increase the pressure. Drag it down slowly again, then up. More pressure, squeeze it harder. He repeats this process, pumping Taekwoon slow and hard. Purposefully. Spitefully.
His own cock twitches as how he tortures the man. Payback sure is delicious.
